


Between Want and Need

by Iron_Angel



Series: Beer and Benefits [5]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Ass-kicking power couple kicking ass, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Ghoul Sex, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Post-Canon, Violence, welcome to rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Angel/pseuds/Iron_Angel
Summary: Nearly a year later, Parsons State Insane Asylum has been overrun by raiders again, threatening the nearby Minutemen protected settlements. Clearing it back out is too big of a job for one person alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [insert disclaimer here] Unbeta'd. I'll correct mistakes and typos as I find them.
> 
> Oh lord, here I go with another multi-chapter fic... (-_-)

From the stuttering of her breathy moans and the feel of her inner muscles beginning to clench around him, he knew she was close. He only had to hold out just a few more moments. To distract himself from coming too soon, he focused on running his fingers down the smooth expanse of her back to her undulating hips as she rode him, watching her shiver at the touch of his rough hands. Her own hands on his chest flexed, her nails lightly biting into his scarred skin, and she let out a sharp cry as she fell over the edge into orgasmic bliss.

He gripped her around the waist and pushed up, finally ready to let himself go.

"Edwa- _ah!_ Edward!" she panted, staring down at him with those jewel-blue eyes.

He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn't break the rhythm. Just... a moment... more, and...

He pulled her down hard against him as he came, feeling more than hearing her gasp as he filled her. One hand remaining firmly clamped just above the swell of her hip, he reached up with the other to grab her around the back of the neck and bring her down to crush his lips against hers.

"Love-- I love--"

A sharp rapping noise caused Deegan to jerk awake, his eyes snapping open.

"Master Deegan, it is six o'clock in the morning," Sebastian's muffled voice called through the bedroom door. "Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes, sir."

"Fine," Deegan groaned, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, the vision of Nora above him flashed across his mind's eye. _"Love-- I love--"_ He didn't know which of them had said it.

It didn't matter; it was just a dream.

He looked over at the opposite side of the bed.

It had been nearly a month since the last time she'd come to Cabot House, spending a week with him to "help" him during his heat. As much as he hated his inescapable biological failings, those handful of days with her had been... well, incredible. And not just the sex. For an entire week, she was _with_ him. Waking up beside him. Sharing meals with him. Touching and letting him touch.

It couldn't last, he knew. Nora was the General of the Minutemen, and while the militia had grown to become a strong policing force in the Commonwealth, she was still the one called upon the most when there was trouble in the settlements under her protection. Always someone somewhere needing help with something, she had said. He was lucky that he got to keep her for as long as he did.

It didn't stop him from missing her. From reaching out, half-asleep, to her side of the bed at night.

 _Her side of the bed?_ He shook his head. "Got it bad, old man," he grumbled to himself. Two and a half centuries, he _did_ feel old. Much too old to be pining after a woman not even a fifth his age.

Except she really wasn't, his treacherous inner thoughts reminded him.

He shouldn't be thinking about this, he snapped at himself as he pushed himself out of bed and headed toward the en-suite for a shower. Sebastian would be coming back soon to hound him about breakfast getting cold, and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with the Mr. Handy's newfound ability to pout -- a recent personality quirk that showed up hours after Nora had left the last time.

Forcing himself to think about other things, he bathed, dried, and dressed quickly.

There were a number of tasks he really should work on today. The inventory for the Cabots' household possessions and their vast supply bunker had finally been catalogued. Some of it he could sell off, but the majority would probably just sit around collecting dust for another couple of centuries. Might as well break it down for firewood at this point, he mused. It would never be worth anything to anyone ever again.

As he finished pulling his boots on there was another knock to the bedroom door.

"That was less than twenty minutes," he called out, annoyed.

"Quite right, Master Deegan," Sebastian said, sounding much more chipper than before. "And I do apologize for interrupting your morning routine, but Miss Nora is calling for you on the radio, sir."

Huh? She had never done that before.

Opening the door and pushing past the robot butler, he hurried out of the room. He took the stairs down two at a time before vaulting over the handrail to land next to the sideboard holding the shortwave radio. Normally softly buzzing with static interference, it was oddly quiet, it's glowing yellow light indicating it had connected with an outside frequency.

Picking up the microphone, he pressed the button. "Cabot House."

"Edward, darling," came the slightly distorted response, and his chest felt suddenly tight. He'd missed the sound of her voice more than he'd realized. "I'm so sorry to bother you this early in the morning, but I couldn't wait any longer." He wanted to believe that maybe it was because she had been missing him, too, but he knew better by her tone.

Despite knowing something had to be wrong, he couldn't stop himself from hoping anyway. "You're never a bother, sweetheart. What's the matter?"

"Raiders have infested Parsons again and have begun terrorizing my settlements."

Damn.

Even through the radio distortion, her voice became gentler. "I know that it's not your responsibility anymore and I really don't want to ask you, but I can't clear out the whole facility alone, and you know the layout better than anyone else. Please--"

"All right." She didn't even have to ask. He didn't want her going anywhere near the insane asylum without him. "I'm coming to you. Where are you?" He hoped she was at least somewhere safe. Even at a dead run, it'd take the better part of a day to get to Parsons.

"It's a place called the Slog."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (FYI: I'm moving. I'm writing this on a potato between cleaning and packing boxes, and submitting it using my phone. There *will* be a lot of typos, I'm sure. I'll fix them as soon as I have a real computer and internet again. Also, I see y'all's comments and they are greatly appreciated. Again, I'll reply as soon as I have the means to do so.)

_((Flashback))_

The first time Deegan saw her was as she and the synth detective of Diamond City entered the gates of Goodneighbor.

He had been steadily talking Daisy down on her price for parts (always parts because none of the Cabots had ever considered even top-of-the-line machines would eventually break down after a couple of centuries). The gates made a god-awful screeching noise whenever they opened -- better than any sentry alerting the Neighborhood Watch of new arrivals -- and he'd quickly glanced up. And did a double-take.

It was the suit. Nothing was that bright of a blue in the Wasteland anymore.

Vault dweller.

Except she didn't really look like one. Vault dwellers were short, pale, and less... curvy. No doubt due to limited resources in the glorified underground bomb shelters, the vault suits he'd come across over the years were almost as worn out and ill-fitting as scavenged gear. This one looked as new as the ones he'd seen on display with the Vault-Tec advertisements before the bombs dropped, and she looked like she'd been poured into it.

He wasn't the only one who'd noticed the newcomer. It was the Neighborhood Watch's job to notice, but several of the residents and drifters had turned their attention on her as well. Including the one he knew only by the name of Finn. He was a sorry excuse for a hustler, but if the vault dweller was as soft and new to the outside world as she looked, she would be an easy mark for the up-and-coming racketeer.

Damn.

Deegan watched and grimaced as the thug casually walked into the vault dweller's path, blocking her way and lighting a cigarette. "Well, well, it's the detective," he said, looking at the synth as he blew smoke into the woman's face; Deegan had the sudden urge to punch the bastard. "Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?"

To his credit, the synth looked as offended by the man as Deegan felt. "Why, someone stand you up?" he shot back.

"Tryin' that... what d'ya call it? 'Evasive language' on me?" He looked at the vault dweller as if he just noticed her. "And who are you, huh? Valentine's new dick-in-training?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, and we're hiring, but I don't think you'd..." she pointedly looked him up and down, "measure up."

Several onlookers snickered, and Deegan suddenly found himself intrigued.

Finn stepped closer, trying to use his size to intimidate, but the vault dweller didn't back away. "Don't be like that, dollface. You got the look of someone who's in the market for a little... insurance."

Roughly the same height, she merely stared at him, eye to eye. "Unless it's 'keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me' insurance, I'm not interested."

Valentine and Deegan both cracked a smile at that.

Finn finally seemed to realize he was attracting more attention than usual and that he was rapidly losing face. Blowing smoke in her face again, he growled, "I think you're going to like what I have on offer." He opened his jacket. Even though Deegan couldn't see it from this angle, he could guess that the thug was flashing his gun. "You hand over everything in them pockets, or 'accidents' start happenin' to ya. Big, bloody 'accidents'."

For all that Finn was small time in Goodneighbor, this was usually where people folded and he would get his "insurance" money. Even the synth seemed to realize it was a foregone conclusion, reaching out to grab the vault dweller's arm as she moved to get in Finn's face.

"You better back off, or you're the one that's going to need insurance," she warned, her hand going to the 10mm on her hip.

Several things happened at once: The Neighborhood Watchman next to Daisy's storefront lifted his tommy gun. All of the drifters, save one, hurriedly shuffled away to hide behind whatever looked solid enough to stop a stray bullet. The remaining drifter pulled his sunglasses down his nose slightly, eyes locked on the thug and vault dweller, and moved a hand toward a gun tucked in the back of his jeans. KL-E-0 stepped out from behind her counter, claws up and eye glowing red. And--

"Whoa, whoa! Time out!"

As one it seemed, the entire group turned to watch as Mayor Hancock sauntered out of the shadows; his bodyguard stayed back, but her gun was unholstered and held at the ready.

Deegan didn't pay much attention to the exchange between the mayor and the thug, focusing instead on the vault dweller's face. She hadn't been shaken by Finn or his threats, but at the sight of Hancock, her eyes widened. When the "conversation" between the two men suddenly ended with Hancock savagely -- and in his opinion, unnecessarily flashily -- stabbing Finn to death, her mouth gaped and her eyebrows shot up in alarm. If her suit and her looks didn't confirm it enough, that reaction left no doubt she had lived a sheltered life away from ghouls and the savagery of the Wasteland.

Behind him, Daisy cleared her throat. "Looks like the show's over. You gonna buy, big guy?"

Deegan reluctantly tore his eyes away from the vault dweller who seemed to be successfully brushing off Hancock in full charm mode, and turned to the shopkeeper. "Uh... yeah," he muttered, fishing out his stash of caps to count up the required amount.

He only realized he'd forgotten his haggling efforts when Daisy pushed half of them back to him. "Y'know, one sure fire thing about Goodneighbor is everyone who walks through that gate eventually ends up down in the Third Rail," she said with a smile and a wink.

He frowned, confused. "What? I, uh..."

Daisy sighed and rolled her eyes. "If you want to talk to the girl, go wait for her in the bar. And you'd better hurry before someone else beats you to it." She jerked her head toward the drifter in the sunglasses who was now watching the vault dweller and detective over his shoulder as he turned the street corner. She then took back one of the short stacks of caps she'd returned to him. "This will take care of delivering your purchase to the House."

The problem with Daisy's plan was that the vault dweller didn't show up in the 'Rail until much later than Deegan expected, and he'd let his attention wander off toward Magnolia and his drink, missing her come in. He would have missed her entirely if it hadn't been for a bar patron snapping at her about someone named MacCready.

As she walked into the private back room, Deegan scanned around for the detective. He hadn't come in with her, which made Deegan feel oddly relieved; he didn't want the synth hovering around when he tried to approach the woman. Satisfied with that, he stood and made his way over to the chair near the archway to wait for her to come back out.

He wasn't the type to eavesdrop, but this MacCready fellow was loud and had the high voice of one not many years out of teenagehood. Even being unable to hear the vault dweller's responses, he could easily guess there was some kind of caps negotiation going down between them and it was not going well.

It gave Deegan an idea.

At the sound of MacCready's dismissal, Deegan stood again. A moment later, the vault dweller was marching out of the back room, looking annoyed. He tapped her on the shoulder as she passed. "You there. We need to have a conversation."

She jerked her head around to look at her shoulder, then up at him. "Do I know you?" It was a challenge.

He ignored it. "No. But I'm always looking for people who know how to handle themselves in dangerous situations." The face off with Finn had proven that well enough. "And I'm thinking you could use paying work."

She glanced toward the private room, then back up at him, brows furrowed. She probably figured out he'd been listening in. So she was smart, he mused. "What's the job?" she asked, suspiciously. At least it wasn't a flat "fuck off".

"I don't know yet." He hadn't really thought it through that far, if he was honest. He hadn't actually been sent out for new hires today, but Jack was always needing extra muscle. Call it initiative. "Whatever needs to be done once my boss has had a look at you." He supposed it was only fair that he warn her, though. "I can assure you it will be dangerous, but you will be paid fairly. By the way, I'm Edward Deegan. You'll mostly be working for me."

"Nora," she said by way of her own introduction, and reached out to shake his hand.

Deegan would swear that he'd lost his mind. Smoothskins didn't touch ghouls, and he was sure she'd instantly jerk away from him at the feel of his scarred skin. Instead she looked down at their clasped hands for a moment, her thumb subtly sliding over the back of his before letting him go.

He didn't remember much of what else he'd said to her after that; the standard procedure for all new hires was the same, and he rattled off the instructions mechanically. He had focused on her face again, pleased when her brows unknit and she looked more interested. By the end of their talk, she was actually halfway smiling up at him.

With nothing else to keep her attention, he regretfully let her go about her business and went back to his previous seat and his drink. He kept an eye on her for a another hour or so as she talked with Whitechapel Charlie and Magnolia. When the latter suddenly looped an arm through hers and began leading her up the stairs, Deegan realized that would be the last he'd see of Nora for the night and decided to head back to Cabot House.


	3. Chapter 3

"Careful there, stranger," a clearly ghoulish voice warned as Deegan approached the crumbling pre-war pool house. "Friend or foe?'

It took him a moment to discover the source of the voice. Protected by a clapboard half-wall in a vague sort of sniper's nest at the edge of the pool house roof, the ghoul sentry sat calmly in a lawn chair between two rotating machine gun turrets, aiming a hunting rifle at him.

Lowering his assault rifle, Deegan quickly raised his free hand in a placating gesture. "I'm Edward Deegan," he announced. "I'm here looking for Nora."

"Stand down, Jones, he's a friend of the General's," a second voice called from his right. Jones moved his gun to rest across his lap, and Deegan dropped his gaze from the sentry to the pale ghoul coming around the far corner of the building. He offered his hand to Deegan. "I'm Wiseman. Please excuse the less than warm welcome, Mr. Deegan. Things have been... problematic lately with the old asylum across the lake. We've had to beef up security."

"I'm here to help with that," Deegan said with a nod, following Wiseman as he entered the pool house. Inside there was just shy of a dozen other ghouls milling about, some drinking in pairs in corners and others sitting at a long table with plates and bowls of food. Dinnertime.

As Deegan scanned around, a female ghoul with white hair stood and approached the two men. "Well, hello there, handsome," she purred, tilting her head back to look up at him. "You're a tall one."

Deegan blinked down at her, surprised. "Uh..." he intelligently replied.

"I'm always happy to see a new face around here," she continued, moving closer.

"I, uh..."

Wiseman chuckled, "Ease up, Holly. Give the man room to breathe."

"All right, all right," Holly giggled. To Deegan she said, "Sorry about that. I know I come on a little too strong for some people, but when I see something I like, I go after it." She winked. "You can consider that an open invitation, hot stuff." She turned and walked back to her seat at the table, a very noticeable swing in her step.

"You'll have to excuse Holly," Wiseman said quietly. "She likes meeting new people, and getting to, uh, _know_ them."

A lot like Emogene, Deegan mused. He did _not_ want that kind of trouble, thanks. He changed the subject. "Considering the recent trouble, I'm surprised everyone seems to be in good spirits."

"Everyone's always in good spirits when the General is staying in camp," the farmer replied.

The former manservant watched as a gentle smile tugged at the other ghoul's mouth. There was some history there, he realized. Amicable history.

Before he could think about it further, Wiseman led him to the other side of the building out to the pool area, saying, "She's expecting you, by the way." He walked to the right side edge, past the illumination of the floodlamps, and put his fingers to his ruined lips. One short, sharp whistle was answered by two even shorter ones not too far off in the darkness. "Diving platforms, straight ahead," he pointed. "She's usually up at the top. If you can talk her into finally coming down to eat something, there'll be enough left for both of you back in the common room."

For a moment, Deegan watched as the other ghoul re-entered the pool house before turning toward the platforms.

Reaching the top level, he could finally see her dark silhouette sitting at the farthest edge, legs dangling over the side and a long barreled gun of some kind tucked up to her shoulder, aimed across the lake at Parsons. Coming closer, his night vision could make out the faint green glow of the scope at her eye.

"Movement dies down after sunset," she whispered. "I keep expecting them to try taking advantage of the dark of night to ambush us."

"That would be the smart thing to do," he agreed, "but raiders aren't smart."

"At least we have that going for us." She set aside the gun -- a sniper rifle, he guessed -- and pushed herself up to her feet. "I'm happy to see you, Edward."

He smiled. Actually, it was too dark for her to _see_ anything, as evidenced by her reaching forward and missing him by a few inches. He stepped closer, and then her arms were around his waist. In public spaces, he resigned himself to allowing her only the briefest contact in greeting. Human/ghoul relationships were a guaranteed way to ruin one's reputation among the smoothskins. Alone and in the privacy of the dark, however, he could let her go as far as she dared.

She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

He couldn't help it, even if he wanted to. Sliding his hand up into her hair, he tilted his head slightly, tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips. Without hesitation, she let him in, a soft moan escaping her throat as he silently showed her how much he had missed her.

Wild thoughts of frantically stripping off armor and clothing and seeing just how sturdy the ancient chaise lounges still were crossed his mind, but now wasn't the time or place. Even if Nora could be quiet, which he doubted and honestly didn't want her to be, any one of the others below could come up at any time to find them. God help him if it was Holly and she was really as much like Emogene as he suspected. No. No, he just wasn't comfortable with that.

It helped cool him off a little and enabled him to let go when Nora dropped back down on to flat feet.

"Mm, I missed you, too," she said softly, resting her head against his chest. "I'm sorry about having to call you out here."

"I'm not sorry about it at all, sweetheart."

He should be getting right to the point and asking the relevant tactical questions about the "mission," but he couldn't seem to do more than continue to hold her and stroke her hair.

She wasn't pulling away either.

Below, the noise from the pool house changed. Deegan watched as a handful of ghouls began doing what he guessed was the nightly routine. One was pulling the last of the meat off the cooking spit while another was dousing the fire underneath. The first ghoul tossed a roasted... rad rabbit? molerat?... shank to Jones as the sentry switched out with a replacement guard climbing up to the "nest". Wiseman and a different ghoul woman was locking doors and fences and checking additional turrets around the perimeter aimed toward the woods.

"They're well organized," he observed.

She hummed in agreement. "They have to be. Commonwealth bogeyman and their asshole of a henchman McDonough may be gone, but the 'normal'--" She said the word as if it tasted foul in her mouth. "--people still treat them as lower class. Or worse, expendable." She pulled away, shaking her head, and went to collect her rifle.

A sudden thought occurred to him. "You mentioned the raiders attacking your settlements. Plural. So many that you were the only one available to cover the Slog?"

She turned back to him. Even blocked out by the night, he could imagine the look she was giving him. "You already know the answer to that," she sighed. "I can save the people from the Big Bad and maybe even change a few minds, but I can't change people's hearts. So, the Slog only gets me. Super mutants, the Forged, rogue robots... It's just me."

She was too good for the Commonwealth.

He decided right then that he didn't want to deny it to himself anymore.

He loved her.

He reached out for her free hand as she made to pass by him to the stairs. It was only a feather-light touch, but she stopped and looked up at him. "Nora--"

Several mechanical whirs, ticks, and buzzers sounded from below as the lakeside-facing turrets began to lock on and arm.


	4. Chapter 4

_((Flashback))_

Deegan removed his cap and ran a hand over his hairless, scarred scalp. He didn't sweat anymore since becoming a ghoul, but the tic was a hard habit to break. Replacing his cap, he slid the circuit panel back into place and stood.

"I think I've got it fixed," he called over to Jack.

"Hm? Oh!" Jack leaned away from his microscope to reach out to tap at a couple buttons on the front of the console. Whatever he did, he seemed satisfied with the results. Moving back to the microscope, he muttered, "Very good, Edward. Unless Mother needs something, that should be all for this evening." He waved a hand in Deegan's general direction without looking up.

He didn't mind it much anymore. Having worked for Jack and the rest of the Cabots for well over two centuries, he was used to their quirks. Jack would get lost in an experiment and lose track of... everything. Wilhelmina would put tragic silver screen era Hollywood damsels to shame with her swoons and dramatic collapses across couches, all while somehow not spilling her glass of wine. Emogene would mope and moan about being bored for years at a time before deciding to run off with a new boyfriend and then needing to be dragged back home.

He actually liked Emogene and her flighty impulsiveness; it helped with his own boredom. However, after dragging her back home from Number... yeah, he'd lost count, actually... she had gotten more angry than usual and had stopped talking to him altogether. It really wasn't much of a loss.

"I'll check in on Mrs. Cabot before turning in. Good night, Jack."

Jack didn't respond, instead muttering to himself about the proportions of some sort of mixture.

It was an unusually early night for Deegan. He'd come back from Goodneighbor and set to work on the repairs immediately, trying to distract himself from the memory of a soft smile, a softer hand, and a skin-tight blue suit. It had worked... for a little while. Now he was already finished with nothing else to do. A quick check upstairs revealed that Wilhelmina had drank herself to sleep early as well. (Emogene was gone again, but he'd deal with that later, if necessary.)

It would be a good night to relax with a beer and a book. Except there was no beer to be had anywhere on the Cabots' property. Deegan sighed as he closed the door to his basement bedroom behind him and leaned against it. Even one of Whitechapel Charlie's piss weak excuse for a beer would be good right about now.

Back in the Third Rail, he had watched as Nora tried grilling the Mr. Handy for information. Whitechapel never talked to non-paying customers, though, so she had had to buy from the robot to get anything out of him. She never did drink it, though. Never even bothered to open the bottle, sliding it back and forth between her hands on the bartop as she spoke.

Deegan felt himself twitch as he thought about her hands and the way she had brushed her thumb over the back of his as she'd shook it. It was a ridiculous thing to get turned on over, he knew, but still... Still...

He closed his eyes as he cupped himself through his leathers. Just that small measure of pressure sent a thrill along his nerves.

To hell with it. It had been awhile and he had the time now. He moved to his bed and laid down, working his pants open and pushing them and his briefs down to his knees. He'd regret not kicking off his boots later, but it didn't matter for the moment. Taking himself in hand, he closed his eyes again and let his imagination wander.

_Nora's bright blue vault suit looked black in the red-orange glow of the Third Rail VIP room, but her curves are no less stark and enticing. Leaning back on her elbows against the dresser that had been turned into a makeshift liquor cabinet, she let him run his hands over those curves. From her hips up over her breasts to the zipper tab at her throat. Her head fell back as he pinched it and began slowly pulling it down, tooth by tooth. As the fabric pulled apart revealing smooth skin tinted red, he lowered his mouth to gently nip and suck at the line of her neck, earning quiet hums of pleasure he could feel as well as hear._

Deegan slowed his strokes, not wanting to come too fast before the fantasy played out more.

_The suit seemed to dissolve as he pushed it off her shoulders until she was left in nothing but a dark (black? blue?) bra and panties. Running his hands back down her sides to her waist, he gently tugged her forward as he walked backwards to sit in the large armchair against the wall. She smiled at him as she braced herself on her knees across his lap, reaching down between them to palm his length. At her touch, his own clothes vanished, leaving only skin between them._

He jerked as he squeezed a little more firmly at the base of his cock, his other hand picking up speed again. He was so close now, and his mind fast-forwarded the scene.

_He loosely wrapped his arms around her and rested his forehead against her chest, watching himself slide in and out of her as she rode him. Her whimpers were becoming sharper and her pace was stuttering out of rhythm. She had to be right there at the edge..._

With a hard upstroke, pleasure burned across his skin and he only had a split second to cover himself with a fistful of his bedsheet as he came.

He felt a mix of pride and shame as he came back down from his high a minute or two later. He hadn't done that since he was a teenager. Given that his job demanded so much time and energy -- it was a miracle if he ever got a minute to himself -- he was a little proud that he still could.

Without leaving the bed, he cleaned himself up some more, then ripped the sheet off, balled it up, and threw it in the corner. He'd put it in the wash later. He was determined to enjoy the afterglow for a little while longer.

Above his head, the intercom connected to the front door buzzed.

God _damn_ it!

Growling to himself, he reached up and slapped at the call button. "Go away!" he snapped.

There was a slight pause. Then, "Uh, Edward Deegan invited me here."

Nora?!

He bolted out of bed and quickly pulled his clothes back in order before pressing the button again. "Oh, it's you. I thought you might change your mind." And then he mentally kicked himself. He really hadn't expected her to show up. Or, at the very least, not a mere handful of hours later. "Give me a minute and I'll be right up."

He thanked every deity listening for all the small miracles that gave him a clear and easy path to the front door: Jack busy with his experiment, Wilhelmina passed out and dead to the world, and Emogene gone off somewhere. Then he thanked them again for a ghoul's inability to become flushed even after orgasm as he opened the door to the vault dweller... still clad in that skin-tight suit.


	5. Chapter 5

The light pollution of the floodlamps made the dark of the trees and brush virtually impenetrable, so there was no way of knowing what had triggered the defenses. At the first burst of turret fire, however, everyone immediately scrambled back to the pool house.

There were so many threats from all directions on any given day, the ghouls of the Slog had established their own emergency procedures: Take cover in the pool house, have the able-bodied take up arms, and let the turrets do the majority of the work.

A good, solid plan when everyone followed it.

Wiseman, bringing up the rear, paused at the doors just as Holly and Jones were pulling them closed. Looking toward the platforms, he shouted, "Nora!"

From behind a tree, the purple-orange flame of a molotov flickered to life. Deegan grabbed Nora and pulled her back, turning to put himself between her and the arching fire as the improvised weapon was hurled through the air.

The breaking of glass and the whooshing of flames was nowhere close to them, though. Instead, it had landed between the pair of turrets closest to the perimeter, engulfing them both. In no time, they overheated and went silent. Gunfire immediately followed as at least half a dozen raiders swarmed up the embankment.

Jerking away from Deegan, Nora yelled down to the others, "Get inside!"

Wiseman stumbled backwards as a bullet tore into his shoulder.

More molotovs were lobbed at the defensive line.

It was a cacophony of flames and screaming and bullets whizzing past them.

Training took over. Charging right up to the edge of the platform, Deegan swung his assault rifle off his shoulder, took aim, and began firing at anything that moved.

Only raiders were stupid enough or hopped up on so much Psycho to continue fighting even when tables had turned, Deegan thought to himself. Even without the bulk of the turrets functioning, there was enough fire power between him, Nora, and the now-rallied settlers to annihilate the marauding pack. So, as quickly as it began, it was over. He would almost call it disappointing.

Once the shooting had stopped, "Oh god, Wise!" and Nora was off like a streak of lightning down the stairs, Deegan close behind.

Those not working to put out the fires and search the raider bodies had crowded around as Holly carefully lifted Wiseman's head into her lap. Nora pushed through them, pulling a stimpak out of a belt pouch as she dropped to her knees next to the pair. As she attempted to inject the settlement leader, however, Wiseman reached out with his good hand to catch her by the wrist.

"Wise?"

"Save it," he coughed, then groaned. "Hurts like hell, but it's not as bad as it looks."

"It's a through-and-through," Holly confirmed. "Nothing vital was hit."

"Okay," Nora nodded, using her free hand to caress Wiseman's cheek--

Deegan's lip quirked up in a half-smile. He knew this ploy.

\--and stabbed the stimpak into the injured ghoul's arm anyway. Wiseman jerked and hissed in surprise, staring up at her in wide-eyed disbelief. She cut him off before he could say anything. "There's only room enough for one stubborn ass in this camp, and I'm pulling rank to claim the position for myself."

Wiseman looked indignant, but the rest of the group covered their smiles or snickered up their sleeves.

"Get him inside and comfortable," she instructed, standing and taking a step back. To Wiseman she said, "Feel free to complain at me later when you're better."

The group then dispersed to their tasks, leaving Nora and Deegan alone.

"I let my guard down," she whispered after a minute. "He could've been killed." She covered her face with a hand. "All of them could've been killed."

Shifting his weapon to his other hand, Deegan made to reach for her, but she abruptly turned and stormed off back toward the lake side of the the pool house. As he followed, he caught bits and pieces of her growling to herself, "--bastards --finish --tonight..."

Just beyond the lights of the Slog was what look like a small diner or snack shack, all boarded-up. From the outside, it didn't look much different from the abandoned ones found all over the city. Inside, however, was like a fortified bunker. The boards on the outside were just for show; the windows had been filled in with brick and mortar and the door reinforced with a steel plate. Whatever dining furniture that had originally been inside had been removed and replaced with a weapons workbench, a metal shelf with ammo crates and tool boxes, and a mattress pushed up against the wall at the far end.

Compared to what he was used to, Deegan found it very spartan and depressing. Part of him wanted to believe this was just some sort of armory or shop for the Slog, but the mattress told him everything.

"This is how you live?" he asked, and anger flared in his gut. From what he'd seen of the pool house, everyone had an actual bed at least.

Nora turned from where she had been replacing her usual leather armor for sturdier combat pieces. "Wiseman and the others refurbished it for me so I can have my own private quarters," she explained, missing his scowl entirely as she moved on to the shelves next.

That soothed him a little, but not much.

She pulled down a combat shotgun from the top shelf, ejected the magazine to check the rounds, then shoved it back into place.

"What are you doing?"

"Not waiting any longer." She pushed a pair of boxes into his hands; 5.56mm rounds. "I'm clearing out Parsons tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

_((Flashback))_

Deegan opened his eyes and bit back a groan. Pain like fire burned in his gut, but he couldn't risk making a noise that could alert any raiders that might still be nearby.

He'd never heard of raiders coming together in such large numbers to attack something as fortified as the asylum; they fought each other as much as they fought their targets. But even though he, Maria, and the rest of the crew had put up a strong fight to take out god knows how many, there were still too many of them. Maria's company of mercenaries lay slaughtered, and now Deegan was as good as dead.

It helped the pain a little when he pressed his hand against the wound in his stomach.

He hoped Jack would be coming with backup soon.

He lost track of time, then consciousness.

He jerked awake again at the sound of shouts and gunfire on the floor below and getting closer. True to his training, he weakly reached out for his assault rifle and propped it against his knee, aiming it at the door, waiting.

It was only because of his training that he didn't start shooting the moment Jack flung open the doors and stormed in, the vault dweller on his heels.

The scientist looked surprised for a moment. "There you are, Edward!" Then he seemed to realize the ghoul was injured. "How badly are you hurt?"

Deegan probably would have felt bitter that Jack had gone straight to the computer terminal if it had not been for Nora rushing to his side. Eyes wide, she breathed an "Oh god!" and immediately reached out to move his hand away from the wound to examine it. She looked panicked. Worried for him?

More to her than to Jack, he rasped, "I'm not dead yet, but I don't think I can get up."

Nora began searching her pouches, but whatever she was looking for, she was coming up empty.

"You kept them from using the elevator?" Jack asked, quickly tapping at the terminal.

Nora scowled up at Jack.

"Yeah. I..." He couldn't stifle the painful wince. "I sent it down to the basement like you wanted and shut it down. Shot quite a few of them. Don't know how many. They might think I'm dead. Haven't seen anybody in a while." He paused as another pang hit him. "I think, anyway. It's hard to keep track of time."

Jack nodded, distracted. "Good... that's very good. But... Damn it! They've somehow reached the basement anyway. How could they have known to get past...? No, that doesn't matter right now. The Abremalin field is still functioning, but several of the security doors have been breached. They seemed determined to reach Lorenzo for some reason. We'll have to hurry and go through the abandoned section of the facility if we want to stop them." Finally turning from the computer, Jack didn't even look at Deegan as he moved around the desk to head back to the door. "Are you sure you can't get up? I could really use your help, Edward."

Weak as he was, Deegan couldn't even muster the energy to be as angry at the scientist as he wanted to be. Still, he managed to snap, "Yeah, Jack, I'm pretty damned sure."

"Your friend and I will have to take care of things ourselves, then," he sighed, irritated.

Nora had enough anger for the both of them. She shot to her feet, glaring. "You can't be serious!" she growled. "He's wounded and bleeding out! Aren't you even going to _try_ to help him?!"

Jack turned on her. "I cannot overstate exactly how dangerous the artifact has made Lorenzo," he said, suddenly taking on the condescending tone men of his era had always used toward women. Like she was naive and stupid. "In addition to being homicidally psychotic, it has given him enhanced strength, resistance to damage, and local telekinesis. He could very well destroy the Commonwealth all over again. Therefore, we need to get to the basement before these intruders find a way to set him free."

She clenched her fists and stood up straight, resolute. "I am not leaving Deegan here to die!"

Maybe it was just the blood loss clouding his mind, but Deegan couldn't help but feel pleased and a little flattered that she'd stand up for him like that. "Lorenzo is more important. Go with Jack. Stop those assholes."

She knelt down next to him again, putting her own hand over the still seeping wound. "Deegan..." She turned her head to look up a Jack, this time with pleading eyes. "Give me a stimpak for him at least?"

It was a very good chance that Nora might have shot the scientist herself if he had done anything other than look chagrined and quickly move back around the desk to fish one out of a drawer to hand it to her.

That's what she'd been searching for earlier, Deegan realized. Which meant she didn't have any of her own. Before she could inject him, he grabbed her hand. "No."

She stared at him, confused.

"I'll be okay. You need to keep it for yourself." Because if she got hurt and died for Jack, he would burn the whole of Cabot House down around all of them.

The world shrank down to just the two of them as she reached up with her free hand to gently caress his cheek.

His eyes slipped closed as her thumb just barely brushed the corner of his lips.

A sharp, stinging pain in his side made them fly open again, then relief began washing over him.

She tossed the spent stimpak aside. She leaned closer, and for a moment his annoyance at her disobeying him was lost in the wild hope that she would kiss him. "I'm coming back for you," she whispered. "Stay alive for me."

The stimpak's medicine made him too numb to keep his hold on her.

She slipped out of his grip and stood, turning to Jack. "All right, now we can go."


	7. Chapter 7

"Man, I don't like this."

Flattening herself against the wall, Nora put out her hand in a _stop_ then _wait there_ motion.

"Not our problem," a second voice grunted. "It's that kid Clayton's worry if Grimes finds out he disobeyed orders."

"We shoulda stopped him, though," the first voice groused. "Taking all but one of our guard guys to attack that settlement..."

That answered that question, Deegan thought to himself. A quick recon of Parsons' courtyard had turned up only one sentry pacing outside the main doors. Nora had stopped him from taking the raider out at a distance. While he could confidently say it would be a clean shot, he agreed that her plan to use stealth for as long as possible was the better one. There was no telling how many more raiders would be within earshot just inside the asylum foyer.

Impressing him yet again with her skill, she had crept up behind the sentry close enough to touch and put a bullet in the back of his head with her silenced 10mm. The raider was on the ground before he knew he was dead.

"Bah, they're only farmers. And ghouls."

"Don't think I want to eat food made by ghouls. Might catch a disease or something."

Deegan glanced over at Nora. Face turned away from him, he couldn't see her expression at that. The sudden rigidness of her body, however, spoke volumes.

"Yeah, but the other farms are guarded by those Minutemen. Nobody helps ghouls. They'll be easy targets, even for a punk-ass greenhorn like Clayton."

Reaching out to grab her arm, Deegan shook his head as Nora whipped hers around, eyes blazing. He was used to human prejudice, but nothing could make her absolutely furious faster than someone being so blatantly racist. And honestly, he loved and admired her above all others for it, but now wasn't the time to let her heart rule her head.

He pointed towards his eyes, then toward the open doorway: _Take a look._

She nodded, then crouched lower. Taking a breath, she quickly bent forward just enough to get one eye on the room. Standing again, she lifted two fingers and then tapped the back of her shoulder: _Two. Backs turned._

Either they were confident they were safe, or they were stupid, he decided. Or both. Probably both.

He didn't have a silenced weapon, and the assault rifle would make far too much noise. Settling the gun back over his shoulder, he quietly unsheathed his combat knife from his belt, nodding at Nora as she pulled her 10mm again: _Ready._

He had been a soldier before he was taken on at Cabot House, before the bombs. His size hadn't allowed him the chance at actual special ops missions, but he'd been trained for it. Nora was by all accounts and rumors a pre-war lawyer, wife, and mother. So watching her keep up with him, taking down the raider as swiftly and quietly as he had almost simultaneously, left him wondering where and who had trained her.

Quickly checking her Pip-Boy for any other hostiles nearby, she gave an all-clear sign and knelt down to begin searching the dead man's body. "I'm always worried when it's this easy," she whispered up to him. "With my lousy luck, it always means something worse is waiting. Ah, pay dirt." She removed a stimpak from a pouch in the raider's leg armor and handed it over. "How much more ground to you think we have to cover?" She moved to the second raider, turning out his pockets even as the man was trying to speak despite a cut throat, eyes wide.

Deegan had no sympathy; not even for a merciful bullet to end it quicker. "Second floor and basement level. And you might be right," he agreed. "Between the ones we stopped at the Slog and the three we've taken down here, this doesn't seem like enough to be causing that much trouble for your settlements. I'm willing to put caps on the majority being bunkered down in the more secure lower level."

Nothing worth taking on the second man's body, she stood and looked at her Pip-Boy again; this time likely checking the local area map. "The elevator is probably still working from when Jack and I--" She paused, meeting his eye with an indiscernible expression for a split second, then refocused on her Pip-Boy's screen. "The Lorenzo incident." She clicked a knob, then looked up at him. "So our two options: Use the elevator and run the risk of alerting whoever's down there, or slower but quieter stairs."

"We don't know what are odds are, and stealth hasn't failed us yet," he pointed out.

"All right, stairs it is."

~

One could count on raiders for being three things: savage, stupid, and lazy. A bad combination for decent folk just trying to survive. For Deegan and Nora, it made their jobs a lot easier. After all, why walk when the elevator can do all the work quicker? He could think of no other explanation for the lack of guards in the halls.

"I don't like this," he said quietly as he cleaned his knife blade off on the tattered long johns of the only other hostile they'd seen so far. "I know raiders work in small groups, but that's only, what... ten in total?"

Nora was checking her Pip-Boy again, clicking the knobs back and forth, and scowling. "Preston's reports were telling me there had to be more than this." Lowering her voice to grumble to herself, "Damn it, I can't get a scan on the basement." She gave her arm a violent shake in frustration before letting out a harsh sigh, leaning back against the wall, and covering her face with a hand.

He straightened and moved to stand before her. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" Placing a hand on her arm, he could feel her shaking. "Nora?"

"I'm sorry, darling." She sighed again before looking up at him. She looked both haunted and exhausted. When was the last time she'd slept since being called out to assist? "I hate this place. Too many bad things happened here last time..." She covered his hand on her arm with her own. "And _almost_ happened here."

_"Stay alive for me."_

He wasn't good at giving words of comfort. Talking her down from a panic attack was a simple act of murmuring softly to her until she'd come back to him. Action suited him better.

She gave no resistance as he tugged her closer and into his arms. As she wrapped hers around his waist, burrowing into his shoulder as best she could with their armor, he kissed the top of her head, wishing they were back home at Cabot House right now.

_Home?_

To him, for over two hundred years, it had merely been a house; his place of employment. But with her there... yes, it was home.

He needed to tell her.

"Nora--"

"Aw, this would be so touching if it didn't make me want to puke my guts up," a sharp, grating voice suddenly jeered.

Head snapping up, Deegan immediately went to reach for his assault rifle over his shoulder, but the sound of a shotgun racking stopped him short.

"Uh uh, big guy," what appeared to be the leader of the trio now aiming a combat and two sawed-offs at them warned. "Don't think you're gonna get a shot off before we splatter the General's pretty little head all over the walls." He turned his aim more fully onto Nora who had been moving her hand to her 10mm. "Might want to rethink what you're doing there, too, _sweetheart_ \--"

Deegan glowered.

"--because that little pea-shooter ain't gonna do shit to heavy metal." He thumped his chest plate with the butt of his shotgun for emphasis. "Boss Grimes wants to have a word with ya, General, and he ain't much interested in whether your pet zombie gets hauled in dead or alive."

Raising her hands slowly, Nora growled, "Lay a hand on him and I'll make sure you see every inch of your entrails as I rip them out of you before you die."

The raider laughed. "Oh, I love the sexy way you talk, doll. Maybe I'll give you a chance to try later. Right now, though, you've got an important meeting to get to." He strode forward, reaching out to grab her by the collar, and jerked her toward the other two. "Start walking... _sweetheart_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to LilBittyMonster for helping me come up with the perfect names for the raider OCs. You're awesome!
> 
> ENORMOUS thanks to CrackingLamb for working with me for all these months to help untie that half of my brain from behind my back. You're a miracle!
> 
> And The_Desert_Dancer, who has been a great friend and listener to my problems when I'm feeling down. Thanks so much, doll!


	8. Chapter 8

Deegan was seething.

Even stripped of his weapons, he could have taken all three of the raider bastards in hand-to-hand inside the elevator. Or any moderately close quarters. But this trio -- or at least their leader -- was unusually smart. He kept Nora with her back turned and far enough ahead of Deegan that there was no way he could communicate with her, and always with the combat shotgun right against the back of her head. He took them the long way around as well, through the conservatory and the wide halls once used to wheel patients to and from rooms.

No, even if Deegan could shake off the pair of sawed-offs at his back, there was no way he could stop the asshole from blasting his lover's brains across the ceiling.

Finally reaching the cargo lift, the leader pushed Nora inside and stepped in after her. "So here's where the tricky part comes in, dollface, " he said, fishing in a belt pouch. "You're going to let me cuff you to this here grate, all nice and safe, or I'm going to put two in the rad-freak's head." He pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"I'm going to tear you apart," she growled.

He jabbed the back of her head hard with the barrel of the gun. "Or I can put two in yours and then kill him anyway, sweet-talker."

Terrified, Deegan caught Nora's eye and subtly shook his head. "Nora..." As long as they were both still alive, there was a chance, he wanted to but couldn't say.

"Smart for a zombie." He tossed the handcuffs at her feet. "Now on your knees and get to fastening those bracelets around that grate and those pretty wrists."

She had no choice but to comply.

Once secured, the leader stepped around behind her, the gun barrel back against her head. "You sure make a pretty picture like that, General." He looked to Deegan, either ignoring or oblivious to the deep red filling the ghoul's eyes. "All right, big fella, your turn," and he dangled a second pair of cuffs.

At least he was near her again, he thought as he bent to snap the first metal circle around his wrist. Glancing up at her as he took the second, he could see the terror hiding behind her rage.

The urge to reassure her was damning.

"Nora, I--"

"No talking!" one of the lackeys snapped, raising the butt of his sawed-off and cracking it against the back of Deegan's skull.

~

"--n't think you're understanding your situation, General. Your farms are going to supply us with what we want... or else."

Deegan's eyes snapped open, and the sharp, stabbing pain in his head grayed his vision, almost causing him to black out again. Trying to lift his hand to inspect the damage, however, he discovered he was strapped down to one of the ancient, rusted hospital gurneys.

He pushed through the pain and scanned around.

They were in the basement, in the large open room that had once held Lorenzo prisoner in his cubical. A dozen raiders in piecemeal armor, including the three from before, partially surrounded a man in semi-intact power armor. It had to be Grimes; only the bosses took the heaviest weapons and armor for themselves. Thinking Deegan secured and neutralized, their attention was focused entirely on the boss and Nora, still handcuffed and kneeling on the floor before him.

"And I don't think you understand what kind of stingwing nest you've kicked over," she snapped. "The Minutemen do not take such terroristic threats lightly. We can and _will_ cut you down."

As Grimes stepped closer to her, Deegan strained against the rotten leather manacles.

One arm gave slightly.

"The Minutemen," Grimes scoffed, circling his captive. "It might surprise you that I know what kind of people your little militia are. Strong when there's a strong leader." He suddenly darted forward to snatch a machete out of an underling's hand and whirled on her, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back as he pressed the flat of the blade to her throat.

Her cry of surprise covered the sound of the manacle snapping.

"But just like any animal, cut off the head and the body dies."

Deegan forced himself to not look at her as he quickly freed his other arm and his legs. Instead, he kept eyes on the raider closest to him; the lackey that had his gun.

Turning the blade sharp edge up, Grimes pulled Nora higher, forcing her to scramble up awkwardly. "It's not that hard a choice, General. You can save me a lot of time and effort by convincing your people to cooperate. Or I'll decorate the walls with the heads of you, your Minutemen, and anyone else who thinks they can oppose us."

Still struggling in the half kneel, half standing position, Nora rolled her eyes, looking away from the boss at the crowd. Then, making a loud sound that could have been a snort or a laugh, she spat out, "You think one suit of power armor and a handful of hopped-up junkies are enough to take the Minutemen? Even if you kill me, you won't make it past the first farm."

It was Grimes's turn to laugh. "You think this is all the manpower I have? One radio call back to my brother in Nuka World, and the whole Commonwealth will be swarming w--"

For several heartbeats, all stood dumbfounded in the echo of the assault rifle and the sight of the raider boss's head just... gone.

"DOWN!" Deegan roared before turning to open fire on the crowd.

Nora kicked out of the power armor's grip, hit the floor, and rolled.

Five of the remaining eleven underlings were cut down before the rest scrambled into action. No amount of shitty pipe gun fire or wildly swinging machetes and tire irons could match the ghoul's superior training, however. No amount of Psycho pumping through their veins was enough to match his fury.

Almost blinded by the red haze clouding his eyes, his head felt like it was on fire. The pain drove him on, dulling the hurt of the few lucky bullets that got passed the gaps in his armor.

Mere insect stings.

As the last raider fell, he spun about, frantically searching the room. "Nora!"

"Edward!" But her voice sounded strangled.

From behind a freestanding console bank, the leader of the trio manhandled Nora forward, pressing her 10mm against her temple and using her as a shield. Blood was gushing from his nose and she had a split lip; she had put up a fight before getting caught.

Deegan lifted his gun, glaring down the sight to take aim at the man's head.

Nora was jerked into his field of vision.

"Whoa there, big guy! Let's slow this down a little!" the man shouted. Then he laughed, just shy of hysterical. "Things-- Things didn't go quite to plan here. Underestimated you."

Deegan remained silent, motionless.

"Not a talker, huh? Admirable." A cough and a wince; Nora had gotten more than just a bloody nose on him, it seemed. "Listen, the shit's really hit the fan, but your woman here gives me the advantage. So how about a deal, yeah?"  
  
Lowering the assault rifle slightly, but not taking it off the pair, the ghoul's eyes met Nora's.

"I don't want to die in this house of horrors, and you don't want me to pull this trigger. So you let me get to that elevator and get the hell out of the Commonwealth, and I'll give her back. How does that sound?" And he tried for what might have been a reassuring smile.

"I'm not letting you crawl back to your Nuka World gang for reinforcements," Deegan said evenly.

The raider's face fell into a scowl. "Smart for a zombie," he echoed his earlier insult. "I'm not dying alone, rad-freak."

Nora's head jerked to the side as the muffled gunshot of the 10mm popped, followed a split-second later by the burst of rifle fire reducing the man's face to pulp.


	9. Chapter 9

_((Flashback))_

Deegan opened his eyes and immediately knew something was different.

He wasn't in Parsons anymore. Try as he might, though, he couldn't remember anything beyond staring up at the asylum's broken ceiling until he lost consciousness again.

And he felt more... whole. One stimpak was enough to keep him from dying, but it would have taken several more to repair the damage completely. The pain was dull and distant now as well; he was sadly all too familiar with the fuzzy, numbing sensation that told him someone had dosed him with Med-X, too.

Several long moments passed as his mind fought through the haze to process more of his surroundings. The ceiling above was old, but intact. Familiar. The bed and pillow cradled his body perfectly. His bed.

He was back in his room in Cabot House.

More feeling was coming back into his limbs, and he could feel something warm -- a hand -- holding his, the thumb softly stroking over his scarred knuckles. Turning his head slightly, he was legitimately shocked to see Nora sitting next to him, seemingly having fallen into a doze.

He would have let her continue her nap, but as if she could feel his eyes on her, she blinked awake a moment later.

"Welcome back, Mr. Deegan," she whispered softly, squeezing his hand slightly before letting go.

He wanted her hand back. "What happened? How'd I get back here?" His throat felt raw and parched, like he'd been days without water; a side-effect of multiple stimpaks in a short period of time.

Nora bent out of his view to grab something near the floor. Coming up with a can of purified water, she gave him a studying look for a moment before setting it on his bedside table and reaching for him. "Let me help you up?"

He wasn't fully out from under the influence of the Med-X, he realized, when he caught himself unnecessarily wrapping both arms around her shoulders to make it easier for her to shift him to lean against the wall. His shirt had been removed to bandage him properly, and now his skin tingled from the too-brief feeling of her hands on him.

God, he hated being drugged.

"Here." She popped the can open and passed it to him. Sitting back down to face him, she struggled a moment, opening and closing her mouth in a couple of false starts, before she explained, "Lorenzo is dead. That... field thing Jack had... there was no way to restore it, so there was no choice but to kill him. I'm sure, logically, Jack understood that, but he was pretty angry. He fired me and locked himself in the basement." More to herself she said, "I can understand that kind of grief."

"And so ends the immortal reign of the Cabot family." In a way, he was both sad and glad. It was very clear to him that the more years that passed, Wilhelmina, Emogene, and, yes, even Jack were all falling more into misery and despair. Four hundred years had been far too long.

"I feared Jack wasn't in any shape to remember, and I couldn't leave you alone," she continued. "I hired a caravan that was stopped at a nearby farm to help me bring you back. Miss Emogene helped me patch you up. Said it was the least she could do for, um... us."

He had to be imagining that faint dusting of red that spread across her cheeks.

Choosing to ignore it, his mind latched on the other half of her words; _hired_. She had used her caps -- caps she needed to hire that mercenary back in Goodneighbor -- to help him. It made him angry. Angry at Jack for always being self-centered and single-minded. And angry at himself that, involuntarily or not, he couldn't be that hired gun she needed. Not in his current state.

"You shouldn't have wasted your caps on me," he said, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. "And with Jack having fired you, I can't keep you on anymore."

She shook her head. "The caps aren't important. I'll find other ways to earn them." She stood then, picking up her pack that had been leaning against her chair. "And it's just as well, Jack dismissing me. I have..." her face fell, eyes going sad, "things... I need to get back to."

She was leaving, he realized, and there was nothing he could do and no reason he could give to stop her.

But then she surprised him.

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek, lingering for perhaps a heartbeat too long. "Thank you, Mr. Deegan." Straightening and turning away, she added, "And I'm so sorry things ended the way they did."

As he watched the door click shut behind her, he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Me, too..."


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey, hot stuff," a ghoulish voice purred, jerking Deegan awake. Whipping his head around, he found the white-haired ghoul woman -- Holly -- standing nearby, with a steaming mug in her hand. "Sun's been up for hours and that face is handsome enough; no need for anymore beauty sleep." She offered the cup to him. "Hubflower tea?"

He shook his head at her offer, turning instead toward the bed next to him. It was empty. "Where's Nora?!" he started, jumping up.

 

_He lunged forward as both raider and woman hit the floor in a heap. Kicking the corpse aside, he fell to his knees next to Nora, pulling her up into his lap._

_"Come on, sweetheart, don't be dead!" he panted, feeling around for a pulse. Warm blood oozed down the side of her face and over his fingers, but he found the right spot. Alive! But he couldn't spare a sigh of relief; it was faint and too weak. "I've got you, Nora, I've got you..."_

_Quickly pulling the stimpak she had given him earlier out of his med-pouch, he jabbed into her shoulder as close to her neck as he dared. Emptied, he then threw it aside, scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing, and stood. "Stay with me," he begged. "Love, please, just stay with me..."_

 

"She woke up awhile ago," Holly said, unfazed. "Her head wound turned out to be barely more than a graze. Lucky for us, the General has fast reflexes and that most raiders can't shoot for shit."

Deegan wasn't in the mood for her levity. "Where is she?" he asked again, forcing his voice to stay even and calm.

"Arlen's old workshop, I think." She gestured with a nod toward the pool-side exit. "That's where the radio transmitter is, anyway. She said something about needing to get in touch with her second-in-command."

He gave Holly a curt nod in thanks, ignoring her sudden look of disappointment, and strode out of the pool house.

He didn't know an Arlen or where this person's workshop might be, but it didn't take him long to find the small building attached to the south facing wall, a dish antenna mounted on it's sloped roof. The door was closed; likely to block out some of the noise from the water purifiers and bustling farmers splashing around in the tarberry bog. Through a dirty window near the top, however, he could see Nora -- for once not in her vault suit, but instead a button-up flannel and old jeans -- sitting at a desk inside, radio and microphone set out in front of her.

 

_It was all a blur to him. The burning in his skull was pushing him onward in the single-minded goal of reaching the lights of the pool house across the lake. There were friends there. People who could help his Nora._

_And then suddenly he was there. The panic and rally to action from earlier when the settlement had been attacked was nothing compared to the swarming of hands as the Slog's residents rushed to assist._

_They took her from him. They placed her on one of the beds. Holly and a dark-haired ghoul woman set to work on pulling her armor off and her suit away. Others were running water and medical supplies in. Wiseman, himself still injured, and Jones grabbed him by the arms and hauled him away._

_"She'll make it, but you have to let them work," the leader was saying to him._

_Deegan could barely hear him._

 

Even though he was quiet as possible, she still glanced up at him as he slipped through the door and quickly shut it back.

"There should be enough personnel in reserve to secure the asylum, at the very least to keep anymore raiders from holing up in it again," a crackling male voice was saying through the speaker. "Perhaps in the near future, we can even negotiate with the head of Cabot House to take it as a secondary stronghold for the Minutemen."

Nora looked up at Deegan again, and he could almost see the wheels in her head turning. For his part, however, he couldn't care less about negotiating any ownership over the building; they could have it with his blessing. He'd be glad to not have to be responsible for it anymore.

"Perhaps," she agreed, turning back to the microphone. "More importantly right now, we really need intel on this 'Nuka World' their boss mentioned. This could be very bad for us if there's a large nest of raiders out there that we don't know about. Might be a good time to cash in on some favors from our... old friends."

There was a pause. "Understood, General," came the reply. "Signing off."

Reaching out to turn the radio off, she slumped against the desk, laying her head on her folded arms. Afraid for her, he quickly stepped forward, but was brought up short by her muffled, "How are you holding up, darling?"

Thrown by the question, he blinked. Then he smiled; just like her to be more worried about others more than herself. "I really don't like waking up without you next to me," he said softly. He wondered, as she sat back up, the way she was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow, if she realized the deeper meaning behind his words. He pressed on. "You had me worried. How are _you_ doing, sweetheart?"

As she got to her feet, he could finally see the other side of her face and thick bandage taped to her temple. Her eye was blackened and there was an additional puncture mark next to the one he'd caused, visible beneath the open collar of her shirt. And she was moving stiffly.

"I'm okay. Tired... and sore," she admitted.

He didn't stop her from shuffling forward into his arms, wrapping them around her.

 

_It took Deegan a long moment to realize a can of purified water was being held in front of him._

_"I'd offer you something stronger, but I don't think that's the best idea right now," Wiseman said as the former manservant took the can._

_He was dying to know. "Is she--"_

_"She's fine. She's sleeping." Settling down on the patio chair next to him, the farmer popped open his own can and took his time drinking. "So," he started, pausing again. "You and the General, huh?"_

_"Am I that obvious?"_

_"No ghoul gets that close to feral and yet doesn't turn for a mere friend." He scanned around at the others. The chaos had died down with Nora's good prognosis, and those that hadn't broken off to their own beds were in cool-down mode around the opposite side of the bog. "I'm old. Unlike the majority here, I'm pre-war. I've seen it many times, both good... and bad."_

_Deegan drained the water to give himself a moment to think about his answer. "She's... We've never talked about it. Not officially." More moments came and went as the two men sat in silence. "Seems like there's history between you two as well, though."_

_"Some, awhile back," he said with a nod, that gentle smile returning. "Nora is an incredible woman. She gives so much of herself, it's hard not to fall in love with her just a little." He turned his gaze to the bigger ghoul. "But I can't make her eyes light up the way they do when she talks about you. And I have a strong suspicion that nobody can."_

_Deegan was stunned speechless as Wiseman got up to leave._

_"I think it might be time for you to have that 'official' talk," he threw over his shoulder._

 

"You saved my life," Nora said softly, resting the uninjured side of her head against his chest. "And you saved the lives of my friends. I can never thank you enough, Edward."

To hell with reputation. He didn't care anymore who saw them.

Sliding a hand under her chin to lift it, he kissed her, desperate and near-breathless. Pouring everything into it -- his joy, his relief, his desires... and his love -- he had never felt more vulnerable and more powerful all at once.

He _had_ to tell her. Right now.

Gentling the kiss until it was an exchange of soft pecks against each others lips, he cupped the back of her neck, pressing his forehead to hers. "I mean it, Nora," he whispered, voice far more ragged than normal. "I hate waking up without you. I don't want to do it anymore. Nora... I love you. I love you, and I want to always be next to you."

He pulled back to see her jewel-blue eyes had gone incredibly wide.

"A-are you asking me to...?" she stammered, sounding hopeful in spite of herself.

He moved his hand down to take hers, lacing their fingers together. "Yes, I am. If you'll have me...?"

"Oh my darling..." she breathed, eyes filling with happy tears. "Absolutely _yes_!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Finis!_
> 
>  
> 
> So... anyone interested for a Part 6 of _Beer and Benefits_? Because I'm, like, halfway done writing it...
> 
> Also, feel free to look me up over on tumblr; I'm psychomentats. I promise I'll try not to lose my mind again and delete my blog after a year. XD

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please feed the author?


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